bullet for my valentine
by BittersweetSonata
Summary: It's a relationship built on blind trust. Or, she takes the plunge and crosses her fingers. All that's left is for him to catch her.—natsu/lucy
1. Chapter 1

**notes: **kinda inspired by _nbc's the blacklist. _which is actually really cool. anyway, i've had this written up for a while now, but i just hadn't gotten around to posting it. _and i'm still procrastinating that thing i'm supposed to be writing, so. _if you have any questions about my current ongoing stories, or if you have any prompts/requests, look me up on tumblr. the link's on my profile. **  
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**summary:** It's a relationship built on blind trust. Or, she takes the plunge, and crosses her fingers. All that's left is for him to catch her. **  
pairings: **natsu/lucy (major), gray/juvia, erza/jellal, gajeel/levy**  
disclaimer: **own nothing

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_cause you are the best i never had_

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It all begins one bright and sunny Tuesday morning, with a repetition of hard knocks and calls for her to open her door.

Lucy glances down at the ink-blotted papers spread all around her living room and kitchen—which, if put together, would form a half-finished chapter of a novel—before standing and making her way over to the front door. She isn't expecting company, and it's not a voice that she recognizes.

The aggravated assault against the wood continues in short but rapid bursts, and she quickly checks her appearance in the mirror hanging in the entryway.

Her blonde hair is disheveled and there a stray locks hanging out of her messy bun. Her russet-colored eyes are tired, and her skin is a bit too pale—the results of a late night and early morning—and there's a black smudge across her right cheek.

She looks like a mess.

The knocking persists.

"Lucy Heartfilia, open the door!"

She spares a glance at the clock—8:32, she realizes forlornly—and turns to open the door. But first, she steals a peek at her over-eager visitor.

Only to find that there are in fact, four, wearing suits and carrying federal badges.

_Oh, _she thinks as she unlocks the door and pulls it open, _oh no. _

Lucy manages to muster up some scraps of a smile. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

Her voice is weak and vulnerable, she can hear it herself.

The man who'd been knocking—he is, unkempt dark hair, brooding deep blue eyes, pale skin, and a stern expression—nods at her and lowers his fist. "Lucy Heartfilia?"

She inhales deeply and breathes out through her nose. "That's me."

He makes eye contact with one of the other agents—and for some reason she feels he's the only one that really matters, the rest are just the grunt—like some kind of nonverbal communication. It's fast, and wouldn't have been noticeable, if she hadn't been watching for it, at least.

She understands, sort of anyway, and waits for what's sure to come next.

His attention returns to her, and he pulls back his dark blazer to reveal his badge—shiny, golden, an emblem of justice. "Agent Fullbuster, FBI. We'd like you to come with us."

Lucy blinks—once, twice, and then closes her eyes and brings an ink-stained hand to her forehead. She'd known this was coming when she first noticed their badges out the peephole in her front door.

"Okay, just—just give me a few minutes, please. To get dressed and cleaned up," she steps aside and looks at the suits standing on her front porch. "Please, come in. I'll try to be quick."

Agent Fullbuster nods, and she gathers that if this was an arrest or some kind, she would have already been on her way to an interrogation site with some newly acquired bracelets binding her wrists.

But.

He steps inside and quickly seats himself on the worn sofa in her living room, and the other agents waste no time in following him in. They stay standing though, looking much more tense than the man reclining on her couch. He gives her a nod after she shuts the door and passes by on her way upstairs, like he hasn't a care in the world but at the same time there's a steel gleam in his eyes.

It speaks of experience, guarded attention, countless situations much more hostile than this, and she knows that even though he looks relaxed, he's completely alert. He's one of the best.

And Lucy, well.

She doesn't quite know what to think of that.

She scrubs at the dried black liquid marring her skin, leaving it red and raw, but after a few minutes most of it is gone and so she slips into a more decent outfit.

Lucy pulls out the bobby pins holding her hair up and lets it fall loosely over her shoulders. She observes herself in the mirror and decides that she does not look anything like the agents downstairs.

FBI agents didn't wear faded wash skinny jeans that were ripped in several places, or brown leather boots, or dark floral blouses with a chunky purple cardigan.

At least, not on duty.

She smiles at her reflection, and it smiles back.

She looks nothing like an agent at all, and that's just fine. Because she isn't.

Lucy turns on her heel, marches out of her room, and down the stairs. Agent Fullbuster is still where she left him—along with the others—and she brushes her bangs away from her eyes.

Fullbuster stands, and soon the blonde is flanked by the other three agents as she is marched out the door. One of them opens the back door of an SUV for her, and she thanks him quietly.

He doesn't respond.

She climbs inside.

Agent Fullbuster slides in beside her, and shortly afterward they're pulling out of Strawberry Street and away from her house. Headed toward some undisclosed location.

They make no action to keep their destination a secret from her, she denotes, other than the fact that none of the agents speak it out loud. It makes her wonder.

It's quiet, and almost uncomfortable. They ride like this for a while, with no one saying anything, until Fullbuster suddenly breaks the stifling silence.

She turns to him.

He doesn't look at her, but rather chooses to keep his eyes on the stretch of pavement in front of him—even if he isn't the one driving.

"This isn't an arrest, or an interrogation," he states, tone passive.

Her lips twitch upward, and Lucy turns back to the window.

"No, it isn't," she agrees.

Magnolia passes by in a blur.

She wonders where they're taking her.

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They pull into the loading and unloading dock of an old post office located near the outskirts of the city. It's a quiet place with hardly any activity—perfect for a covert underground facility belonging to the FBI. She stays quiet as they come to a stop, and one of the unnamed agents opens the door for her again.

There's a woman waiting for her—long scarlet hair, neat and tailored two-piece suit, stern almond eyes—and Lucy immediately recognizes her.

"Lucy Heartfilia," the woman greets, holding out a hand, "nice to make your acquaintance."

The blonde gives her a slight smile, and cautiously shakes hands with her. "Agent Erza Scarlet, it's a pleasure. Or, at least I hope it is."

There is complete silence for a moment, before Erza nods at Agent Fullbuster. "You're not in any trouble, Miss Heartfilia. We just need…your help with something."

Lucy raises a brow. "What do you mean? What kind of help?"

"Your expertise, and quite frankly, you." the scarlet-haired woman leads them into the building and down a hallway. "I apologize for bringing you in, especially like this, but the matter at hand is extremely urgent and well…you're the only one who can do anything about it."

They stop at an elevator, and Lucy realizes that the only way to go now is down.

"Why me, though?" she questions once they are headed down—one floor, two floors, five, six, seven.

The elevator stops, and Erza turns to her with an uneasy smile. "There's something you need to see."

Lucy follows her out, with Fullbuster behind them. Erza waves a dismissive hand at some agents nervously idling at their desks, and leads the blonde into a room off the side.

"Sir, Miss Heartfilia, as you requested."

There's an elderly man sitting behind a desk, rifling through several stacks of paper and files. He glances up at them once they enter, and when Erza speaks, he pauses.

Lucy swallows hard because, this is the assistant director and asked to see _her. _There are several ways this could go, she theorizes, and even though they've informed her she's in no trouble, her analyst training is telling her otherwise.

With several situation scenarios come several different—possibly unfavorable—outcomes. If she's really not in any sort of trouble and they've just called her in to help, then the situation must be pretty dire. The thought makes her a bit queasy, and she has to squash the foreboding feeling bubbling up in her chest and stomach.

"Y-you wanted to see me, sir."

Makarov Dreyar nods. "Yes, have a seat, Miss Heartfilia."

He glances at agents Scarlet and Fullbuster. "You two as well, I'd like you to hear this."

Lucy sits down and tries her hardest not to fidget.

Makarov pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "As agent Scarlet and Fullbuster here already know, this morning we arrested a wanted criminal. We've been trying to get this guy for years, but he always disappears on us. He has connections everywhere—or so it seems. Friends, allies, subordinates, all of whom would rather die than give him up. He's extremely dangerous—possibly a threat to national security."

He pauses, and looks straight at Lucy.

"And this morning he walked into Magnolia's branch of Fiore National Bank and gave himself up voluntarily."

The blonde isn't exactly sure what to make of the situation. "Pardon me for interrupting sir, but what does that have to do with me? You caught him, so what do you need me for?"

Makarov sighs again—deeper, this time. "Because, Miss Heartfilia, he's been asking for you. He says he won't speak to anyone except _you_."

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Lucy stands outside the door of the interrogation room. She's never been in very many blacksights, but this one is especially outfitted with extra security, the newest advancements in technology, and lots of tense agents—specifically designed to hold one prisoner. When she thinks about how much it all must have cost, it gives her a headache.

Agent Scarlet turns to her, worry and anxiety written all over her face. "Are you sure you're ready for this? You'll be going in alone, and we can hear everything you say but—,"

The blonde smiles and taps her ear, where her earpiece is a bit uncomfortably situated. She's not used to wearing them anymore, after all. "I'll be fine. I was trained for this, remember?"

Erza doesn't say anything else, and so Lucy takes a deep break and steps forward. An agent unlocks the door for her, and she steps inside, the bright luminescent lights blinding her for a few seconds.

But then she can see again, and the door shuts behind her.

"Agent Lucy Heartfilia, am I right?"

Her head snaps toward the man sitting at the table, and he grins—wide and bright and a little too happy for someone being detained. His salmon-pink hair is messy and looks strange with his white dress shirt, gray vest, and matching slacks. His eyes are deep and dark and mischievous, and for a moment she thinks that he's just a teenage boy and not a man.

She clutches the folder in her hands to her chest.

"Hello, Natsu Dragneel."

His grin widens, and she wonders just what she's getting herself into.

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**end notes: **basically what you should gather from this is that i watch too many dramas, and i don't really know anything about the fbi (and i watch way too many dramas). also, lucy's backstory will kinda be explained next chapter? and is natsu _really _a criminal?


	2. Chapter 2

**notes: **i've returned. also i'd just like to point out that the federal bureau of investigation here is a fictional one. for the most part. anyway yeah. that's about it?**  
dedication: **to natsudragneel4699, because honey, you and i just _know. _also, i'm glad i could make something special for someone.

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_{i can't steal you, no, like you stole me} _

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**ii.**

Lucy takes a few steps forward and pulls out the only other chair in the room. It grates against the tile floor and she pauses, wincing a bit before taking a seat. The metal is cold and hard, and she remembers that she never actually got used to the sensation. Or the thick tension and anxiety that usually wrapped its sharp fingers around her when she stepped into an interrogation room. The memories are still relatively fresh in her mind—the suspect sitting across from her after having been brought into custody, accused of something truly awful, the files spread out in front of them, her asking countless questions.

She'd been one of the best, even though she'd been young. She still thought about it, sometimes, because whenever she walked into a building occupied by agents, they knew what she was there for and what she was going to do. Someone had once told her that she'd been something of an urban legend, and that people talked about her sometimes in hushed whispers behind closed doors, or when no one was looking.

Because, Lucy Heartfilia was only ever brought in for one reason. That reason being that when she was brought in to interrogate someone, whoever they were—she could _break them. _

Maybe nobody really understood how she was capable of doing it—especially when she herself didn't know. But she'd never been fond of hurting people or making them suffer, that'd been the whole reason she'd become a government agent in the first place. To stop incidents that could harm people from happening. But somewhere along the way, things had changed, and she'd retired early at the age of twenty-four after only working one year.

And yet here she was, sitting in a too-bright room with a guy who was supposedly some kind of criminal mastermind, being watched by her fellow former agents from behind a panel of glass.

Funny how things work, sometimes.

Lucy lays the rather thin file down on the table and brushes some fringe out of her eyes. She knows that she's just procrastinating the inevitable as long as possible, and the man before her seems to understand that too.

He leans closer and laces his fingers together, resting his hands on the tabletop. "Ah, or should I say _former _Agent Lucy Heartfilia?" he smiles, just a little quirk of his lip. "That's more fitting, right?"

The blonde swallows the nonexistent lump in her throat. "Probably," she agrees, and realizes that the suspect isn't really the one supposed to be asking the questions.

"So, if you're no longer a part of this fine investigative service, then what're you doing here with little old me, Miss Heartfilia?" he smirks at her this time, and she can hear somebody swearing over her earpiece.

Sounds a bit like Agent Fullbuster.

Lucy smiles a little uneasily. "Actually, I was hoping we could talk about you, Mr. Dragneel."

His smirk grows a margin, and he leans back in his chair again. "If that's what you want, then of course. But only on one condition," his expressions becomes serious, and he holds up a tanned finger, "drop the whole 'Mr. Dragneel' act. Just call me Natsu."

She blinks, and eases up a little. "Okay. Natsu it is then. You can call me Lucy, if you feel like it."

His grin returns full-fold and then some. "Alright, _Lucy_."

_Okay, you've got this, _she thinks to herself. And after a deep breath, _you can do this. _

"So Natsu, what brings you to Magnolia?" she questions, resisting the intense urge to fidget with the edges of her sweater and instead keeping her hands on the chilling tabletop.

Something flashes through his eyes, but it's gone before she can guess what it is. "This place looks nice in the spring. Y'know, with the cherry blossoms and all. I thought I'd drop by for a visit."

Lucy nods, feeling a smile pull at her lips. "Yeah, it does look pretty, doesn't it? I especially like the festival they hold every year. Lots of games, enough food to feed a small army, sparkling lights, children laughing…it's one of my favorite times a year."

As she talks, she takes the time to fully look over his profile. He's calm—relaxed, almost—and shows no signs of discomfort or nervousness whatsoever. He doesn't avoid her gaze and instead chooses to keep eye contact. She almost feels like he's the one who should be interrogating her.

This interrogation is different from the ones she's been in before. Some of the suspects would appear collected, but they always gave off small signs—ones she'd been trained to detect, no matter how minuscule—that would give them away. There was always an intense amount of tension in the room, but this time things were normal. Almost as if they were good friends discussing the weather, and nothing like what was really going on.

Something does seem vaguely familiar about him, but she chooses to ignore it and play the thought off as something to do with her suddenly being thrust back into this situation.

Lucy calculates her next question and watches closely for the reaction. "Did you decide to just 'drop by' Fiore National this morning, too?"

To her surprise, Natsu smiles. "Oh, so they told you, did they? Well of course, since you're here to question me and try to find out, 'my true intentions'—is that what those agents out there call it? Like Agent Fullbuster maybe," he pauses, "we don't get along very well."

The blonde hears more profuse swearing over her earpiece and winces at the sudden noise, closing one eye. "W-well—,"

"I'm betting he's the one they sent to get you this morning, right? Such an asshole, I know. We've been playing this—how would you describe it?—game of tag, I guess, for a couple years now. He doesn't like me very much, and I can't say I'm really happy with him either. You know, because he's a bastard."

Lucy touches a finger to her ear and tries to ignore the enraged shouts coming over the line. "I-I see. That's how it is then," Erza growls something she can't make out and everything is suddenly quiet again.

Natsu's gaze leaves her face for a minute and lingers on her hands. "You still favor writing with a pen rather than using a keyboard," he murmurs softly, and she feels her breath catch in her throat. "By the way, how's that novel of yours coming along?"

The former-agent blinks because suddenly the atmosphere in the room has changed to something more serious and silent. She feels vulnerable and very much like glass—breakable and see-through. But that same emotion is back in Natsu's eyes and something rises in her throat because there's an intensity and softness in that look and she doesn't know what to do.

Suddenly there's this feeling—a fleeting thought that sounds absurd to the agent part of her—and she thinks that maybe he would never hurt her. Even though they've never met and he knows one of her closest kept secrets.

"How…how do you know that? About me, how do you know something I've only told a total of three people in my life?"

He smiles. "Simple, Lucy. The reason I know that personal preference of yours is because I know _you._"

Everything is silent over Lucy's earpiece, and she thinks that might be a good thing because she's not sure how she would handle anything when her own thoughts are a train wreck. Something about him seems familiar, sure, but she's almost positive that she's never met him before in her life. She wishes that she could just forget that Erza had told her he'd asked for _her _specifically. And that he knew her name before she even introduced herself. Or the fact that he also knows about her novel at all, ignoring the part about her favoring a pen over a laptop for rough drafts.

There are only two logical conclusions and she doesn't want to think about either one.

"You gave yourself up," she blurts softly, but it doesn't break the moment at all.

One side of Natsu's mouth quirks up just the littlest bit, again. "Hm. That I did."

Lucy's brows furrow. "Why?"

He looks at her, eyes kind of sad and serious but playful at the same time. "Well Lucy Heartfilia, that's a question I'm afraid I can't answer right now."

"You can't, or you won't?"

Natsu leans in toward her, and the fingers on her right hand twitch. "Maybe the answer you're looking for is both of those questions," he brushes his fingers over hers, and she hears a grunt from someone on the other side of the glass. "You want to know the answers to things I can't tell you right now. For your safety, I assure you," he adds when she opens her mouth.

Lucy decides not to think about the way his touch makes her feel, and instead swallows. "You gave yourself up," she repeats, her voice wavering a little, "which, by all my accounts, doesn't make any sense. According to this file, you've successfully eluded the authorities for years. There was that incident in Edolas three years ago, but other than that…you're a ghost, Mr. Dragneel. Someone suspected to have numerous acquaintances and contacts worldwide. You have the ability to blend in with your surroundings; you don't leave any trails unless you mean to."

She looks up at him through her lashes, russet eyes clear and calculating—back in control of her emotions, or rather hiding them. "Nobody was even remotely close to catching you, and yet this morning you walked right into Fiore National here in Magnolia, told a bank teller to call the police and alert the FBI that you were there, and then gave yourself up willing when they came for you. So it makes me wonder—what hidden motive could you possibly have with turning yourself in? What do you stand to gain?"

Natsu, who had frowned when she'd called him by his last name, gives her a half-smirk, half-smile. "Another reason I like you, Lucy. You're smart and you know what you're doing. As for the answer to your question, well, let's just say that I have a proposition for you and your former employers."

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**end notes: **i'm such a tease, _pfft. _some teeny little nalu as a taste of what's to come. _can you see it because. _


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